Not Today
by Bitter.Season
Summary: [Complete] A series of six short stories about the group’s lives outside of work.
1. The Break Room

Summary: A series of six short stories about the character's lives outside of work.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Life goes on. The song belongs to Avril Lavigne.  
  
CHAPTER ONE - THE BREAK ROOM  
  
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And I wanna believe you  
  
When you tell me that it'll be okay  
  
And I try to believe you  
  
Not today, today, today, today, today  
  
Tomorrow it may change  
  
Tomorrow it may change  
  
Tomorrow it may change  
  
Tomorrow it may change  
  
-Avril Lavigne -'Tomorrow' -  
  
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They all stood in the break room staring at each other. The silence was so heavy, that it almost seemed like a tangible element that coated them all in a heavy mist. No one dared to even breath, lest they break the spell that had settled itself over the crime lab that night.  
  
It had been a hectic night. Greg had said something about the full moon earlier, but everyone had laughed it off. Now they wished that they had believed him and called in sick. There had been too much death that night.  
  
Grissom finally broke the eerie silence by telling them all to go home and get some rest.  
  
They all nodded absently, shuffling out of the room with their heads hanging low. Even Greg, the normally vivacious lab tech seemed unsettled.  
  
They would deal with their emotions, but not today.  
  
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Author's Note: That was the opener to the actual mini-series. Each chapter will now focus on a particular character's life outside of the crime lab. Enjoy! 


	2. Grissom

Disclaimer: Grissom and Sara aren't mine. I still live. The lyrics at the end belong to Staind.

CHAPTER TWO - GRISSOM

Gil Grissom locked the door to his office and followed the maze of corridors to the employee parking lot. It had been a hectic night, and most would be glad to head to the comfort of home. Some would go home to their families, but not Grissom. He had no smiling face to greet him at the door.

He stopped at his car, shoving the key into the lock and twisting. Soft footsteps clicked on the pavement behind him, and he was grateful for the surgery he had gone in for the year before. Turning, he saw Sara Sidle crossing the lot to her own vehicle.

"Hey Gris. What are you doing with your day off?" He had forgotten that he wasn't scheduled to come in tonight. With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders. This conversation seemed vaguely familiar, but it didn't matter. Nothing ever came of it anyway.

"I don't know. I'll probably sleep for a while, then go to the bookstore. They have a new entomology text out that I wanted to look in to."

She just nodded and smiled, the way that she often did when it came to him. He would never understand females. Especially not Sara. "I'll see you later, I guess." And with that she was in the car and he was standing by his, wishing that she would come back to him. But that seemed to be how it always was. It was safer for his heart that way, though it stung a little despite it all.

Getting in his own car, he passed the time until he arrived at his home numbly listening to some nameless radio station. It was playing classic rock from the 1980s, and he remembered when those songs were brand new.

__

That's why it would never work. I'm too old for her.

And it wasn't even that thought that brought him down all the time, just the realization that it wouldn't matter anyway. Things with Sara had always been complicated and always would be complicated. There was no need to get more in depth than that. It was best to just spare them both the trouble of realizing too late that it had all been a mistake.

Even so, as he walked into the dim little townhouse that he called home, he saw Sara walking in from the kitchen with a bowl of batter tucked against her, stirring it with one hand as she held onto it with the other. The phone was nestled in the crook of her neck as she talked to Nick or Catherine, maybe even Greg. She smiled at him and nodded toward the living room where their daughter sat with her tiny features scrunched up in concentration over something in the textbook in front of her. Their son was napping in his playpen surrounded by stuffed animals, a little receiving blanket wrapped around his tiny body.

He blinked and the vision was gone, replaced by dust covering an unused sofa and heavy curtains blocking the intruding sunlight from view. If anyone were to visit, not that they did, they would wonder if he really lived there at all. Grissom went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. There was a carton of milk sitting on the top shelf beside some eggs, but an odd smell was coming from it and he passed it by for the third time that week. Reaching into the back, he pulled out a bottle of beer and sighed, shutting the door behind him. It was no use looking for food in the cupboards. He hadn't gone shopping since the last time his mother visited, and when he really thought about it, he couldn't remember how long that had been.

He twisted the cap off the bottle, then walked back out into the living room. On a little table, the only thing in the room that looked remotely used, sat a lone telephone/answering machine combo. He looked at the little display, but it had nothing new to tell. There had been no calls that night. He checked the outlet, but the machine was plugged in. He didn't figure there was really anything wrong with it anyway.

His footsteps echoed through the near vacant room, and it seemed disturbing somehow. Someone lived here -he lived here- and yet it seemed like it belonged to a dead person. The entire place appeared to be in mourning of someone, and maybe it really was for him. After all, to this house, he must have seemed like a stranger.

Grissom threw his head back, taking a long swig of the alcohol he held in his hand. Maybe he could drown himself in it.

__

If only it were that easy.

He crossed the living room, a thin trail of footprints leading through the dust. He followed them into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the king-sized monstrosity that choked the life out of the little room. It felt a little like living in a closet, but it didn't matter. He was the only one there anyway.

He lay back across the bed, careful not to spill his beverage on the comforter that draped across the worn mattress. It was the last beer left in the house, and he didn't intend on leaving to buy more.

The phone rang, and he sat up immediately. He walked cautiously into the living room, staring at the blaring red light of the machine like it was a foreign object. It continued to ring, but he couldn't bring himself to answer it. Hover around, yes, but never pick up.

The answering machine clicked on, and he stood there just staring, expecting some kind of solicitor, but completely unready for the voice that drifted in. Even so, he didn't move to answer it.

"Hey Gris, it's Sara. I know it must be weird, me calling you at home and all but... I umm... well, I just wanted to see if you had changed your plans and maybe wanted to get breakfast or something. I guess I must have missed you... so... I'll see you tomorrow night."

He sighed and took another fast gulp of beer.

He would deal with Sara, but not today.

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Through your eyes everything's clear

And I'm home inside your arms

But I'm alone for now

I mean the best with what I say

It doesn't always sound that way

-Staind -'Safe Place' -

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	3. Sara

Disclaimer: Sara, Grissom, and Nick aren't mine. I still live. The lyrics belong to T.a.T.u. and Sarah McLachlan respectively.

CHAPTER THREE - SARA

Sara Sidle wandered down the corridors, looking into the vacant offices. Apparently, she was the last one left. She stopped in the break room again, hoping that Grissom was still there. It was as empty as the offices around her. She sighed, heading out toward her little Honda Accord. It was an old car, but it still ran and that was the important part.

__

I just wish... no, nevermind.

She opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. She blinked once, twice, three times, letting her eyes adjust to the brightness. Someone was walking toward their own vehicle. Someone who looked a great deal like...

__

Grissom.

She continued on, trying to act causal. She knew he could hear her. The surgery had been good for him. He turned to look at her and she tried to smile. "Hey Gris. What are you doing with your day off?" And she knew that it was the wrong question to ask. She had done it once before, and it had only ended up with her going home a little more heartbroken than she had been the day before.

"I don't know. I'll probably sleep for a while, then go to the bookstore. They have a new entomology text out that I wanted to look in to."

She sighed. That wasn't how life was supposed to be.

"I'll see you later, I guess." She got into her own car, glancing at him for just a moment before she started it up and pulled away. A light, airy classical piece floated in from the speakers, and she jammed the off button with her finger, wincing in pain a bit. That would hurt later.

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And you leave on your own

And you go home, and you cry

And you want to die

-T.a.T.u -'How Soon is Now?' -

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The time passed slowly. There was an accident on her street that blocked her parking spot. She pulled ahead, parking in the little alleyway beside the building. She would have to move it later. Circling the building, she let herself in and closed the door to the rest of the world. The blinds were shut; the curtains drawn. Occasionally, a flash of blue or red flickered through the living room from outside. She hoped the ambulance would be gone soon.

Walking into the kitchen, she grabbed a Smirnoff from the fridge and took the cap off. Setting it on the counter, she looked at the clear liquid, contemplating whether this was really what she wanted. She took a tentative sip, then another. It wasn't what she wanted really, but it would have to do for now.

She walked back into the living room and sat on the couch. A photo album sat on the coffee table, but it was covered in dust. There was nothing in it for her but broken hearts and long-forgotten promises. It was complicated.

Sara turned the television on, keeping the volume down low. It was on the Discovery Channel, but she couldn't remember why. She snorted and took another long drink from the bottle when she saw the bugs crawling across the screen in front of her and wondered what Grissom was doing just then.

__

Probably watching this.

She couldn't know for sure. She'd never actually been to his place.

__

Maybe he doesn't even have a TV.

She set the bottle on the coffee table and was surprised to see that it was half-empty already. She didn't know if she had more, but it didn't mater. Drinking never chased her problems away anyway.

The red and blue disappeared in a blare of sirens. She could go move her car, but not yet.

Sara looked at the phone and sighed. She knew what she wanted, but wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to try. Hadn't she already been turned down once that day? Grabbing the phone, she cursed herself for being so weak as she dialed in the number she had memorized by heart.

It rang once, twice, then three times and she laughed again at the irony of all of this. Everything happens in threes. Blink three times, ring three times, get rejected three times. She was used to it by now.

The answering machine picked up, and she thought about hanging up for a second. Then, she heard a voice and it registered, just vaguely, that it was her own. "Hey Gris, it's Sara. I know it must be weird, me calling you at home and all but... I umm... well, I just wanted to see if you had changed your plans and maybe wanted to get breakfast or something. I guess I must have missed you... so... I'll see you tomorrow night."

And she cursed herself again for being weak and slammed the phone back down on the receiver. Maybe it's better this way.

They had too much history for things to be easy, and she understood that, despite how she might feel now. That time at the seminar had been well-spent, but maybe it was wrong of her to think that there could be more.

__

Maybe it's better this way.

There was a knock on her door. She looked at the bottle on the coffee table regretfully, then moved toward the door. She peered through the peephole cautiously and her breath caught when she noticed who was out there. It would be polite of her to answer and see what it was he wanted. It was probably a breakfast invitation, but she wasn't interested in empty company.

She walked away, leaving him standing there alone. Her car wasn't out front. He'd never know the real reason why she didn't answer.

__

Maybe it's better this way.

She would deal with Nick, but not today.

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It's better this way, I said

Having seen this place before

Where everything we say and do

Hurts us all the more

-Sarah McLachlan -'Full of Grace' -


	4. Nick

Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I still live. The lyrics belong to The Ataris.

CHAPTER FOUR - NICK

Nick Stokes stopped by the lab on his way out. Sure, Grissom had told him to go home, but he really wanted the results from the case he had been working on. He looked everywhere for Greg Sanders, but he had already gone.

With a sigh, he headed out toward the parking lot. Grissom was just pulling out, and Sara was already gone. It was too late to put his plan into action.

Nick had always had feelings for Sara, but that was all it was; feelings. She had no interest in him, but it was a game that Nick played with himself. Anything to make it feel like he actually belonged here.

He got into his car, not wanting to go home yet. The sun was too bright. It stung his eyes until he finally reached for his sunglasses to block it out. Even so, little pieces crept in around the crack between the frame and his face, burning into his retinas. He sighed, heading toward the bar where he and Greg used to play pool before their shift started.

He wondered what everyone else was doing right now. Warrick was probably heading to his place to relax and watch the game he had taped the night before. Sara and Grissom would go to the places and probably keep working. He was pretty sure that Catherine was going home to Lindsey, and Greg to that new girl he had met the other day. He hadn't stopped talking about her since. It's not that Nick was jealous. He just wished that he got to see his best friend a little more.

__

I don't belong here.

The thought had nagged at the back of his mind since he had started working there, and it had yet to dissipate. Actually, when Nick really thought about it, it seemed that the feeling grew stronger.

__

I should have stayed in Texas with my family.

Everything in Vegas was lonely. In Texas, he had constantly been surrounded by people. Growing up as the youngest son in a family of seven, he had always had someone looking out for him. Here, he was completely alone. He lived comfortably enough, but there was never anyone around to talk to or be with. Even if he met someone in a bar, the chances of seeing them again were slim. And if he did see them, usually they had wound up in a body bag somehow.

The bartender looked at him, but Nick shook his head. Alcohol would do nothing for him now. He stood again and left just as abruptly as he had come in. He knew where he was heading, but wasn't entirely sure why.

It didn't take him long to get there. Her car wasn't out front, but he decided to take his chances anyway. He got out of his vehicle and paused, casting a quick glance at the bloodstain on the lines in the road. Such a scene would bother anyone else, but he just passed it by. Now he understood the ambulance he had seen on the way.

He stepped up to her door and paused for a second before knocking. He wasn't sure this was a good idea, but it was too late to change his mind.

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I just want to belong.

He wanted her to open the door and smile at him. She would ask him in, and he would invite her out. She would smile again and agree, and things would work out between the two of them. They'd go for picnics in the park near his apartment, and they'd take trips to California or Texas to visit their families. They'd get married eventually, and she would forget all about this life and about Grissom. The world would drop away and it would just be the two of them. And maybe they'd be happy.

He stood outside her door and listened to the darkness of the house. Her car wasn't out front. She wasn't home.

His face fell as he turned to head back to his car. He turned the key in the ignition and punched the button on the radio. Nick cringed as an old country western tune blared through the speakers, and wondered who had been playing with the settings.

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What a stereotype. The Texan and his country music.

It didn't take too long to get home, though he couldn't have told the difference anyway. It was bright and sunny outside, but Nick's heart felt dead.

He walked in and pressed the playback message button on his answering machine. The first was from a credit card company and the second from a cable place. He quickly stopped the second before it could continue. He had no intention of ever getting cable again. The third was from Warrick, and it almost made him smile.

"Hey Nick, it's me. Just wanted to see if you were interested in catching the game with me. I know it's on tape and all, but it'd still be cool to just chill. Well, just stop by if you get this before it gets too late."

Nick smiled a little, though inside his heart was still frozen and he knew without ever needing to ask that he had not been Warrick's first choice that day.

He picked up a picture from the stand and studied it for a second before setting it back down, grabbing his keys, and walking out again. The picture showed his family surrounding a giant Christmas tree in their family room, everyone smiling and hugging. There wasn't a happier scene, especially not from Vegas.

__

Maybe I don't belong here.

He would deal with the loneliness, but not today.

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From this second story window

I can hear the church bells calling out my name

The table is set for one

Even angels would be homesick in this forsaken town

-The Ataris -'Unopened Letter to the World' -

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Author's Note: I apologize if that was terrible. I'm not that good at writing Nick's character because, aside from Warrick, I have the least in common with his character than the others. Well, I hope you're enjoying this little mini-series so far, and if you have any comments or suggestions, email me or leave a review. The next chapter should be up tomorrow.


	5. Warrick

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm still breathing.

CHAPTER FIVE - WARRICK

As soon as Grissom told them to leave, Warrick was gone. He went out to the parking lot, not wanting to get caught in some kind of meaningless conversation in the hallway.

He got in to the car and turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered and shook, then died away just as quickly. He groaned and pounded his fists against the steering wheel. He tried once more, and this time the car caught and stayed alive. He wondered if it would hold until he got home. Maybe he'd get someone to look at it later. Or maybe not.

He eased the car out of the employee parking lot. He noticed Catherine walking over to her own vehicle and smiled a little. She would be heading home to Lindsey, and Warrick wished that he could say the same thing. It was no secret that he had a thing for Catherine.

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As stupid as that may be.

He turned the radio on to some nameless rap song. He bobbed his head to the tune a little and smiled. It was probably about killing a girlfriend and doing dope, but it didn't matter. It was supposed to be artistic, and it's not like it was a confession of murder.

He knew where he was going. It had been a while since he had had anything to drink, and it was time to remedy that. He pulled into the convenience store and sighed. He shut the car off carefully, hoping that it would start again when he returned. He knew that Nick would give him a ride if he asked, but he didn't want to talk to the Texan right now. He was too easy-going and trusting. Warrick didn't want to ruin his innocence a little bit more.

He went in and bought a case of beer. He left quickly and hopped back into the car. There was nothing left for him there. No hidden answers tucked away behind the next case of beer or bag of potato chips.

He started the car again and just drove, not entirely sure why he was heading in the direction that the car was currently aimed. He understood soon, though he still didn't know what he intended to gain from this journey.

Warrick stopped the car outside Catherine's place. He didn't see her vehicle, but maybe she parked it in the garage. He walked up to the door and knocked, but there was only silence in the house that lay before him. A car drove slowly down the street and he turned to look at it. It was a Denali, like Catherine's, but it continued on past the house, gliding through the sea of cars lining the narrow street.

He sighed and headed back to his car, a little drag in his step now.

It took no time to arrive at home. He left the beer in the car and walked in. There was a tape of the game in his VCR and bags of junk food in the cupboard. But Warrick didn't want to be alone today.

He picked up the phone. He didn't want to call, but there wasn't anything else he could do. He dialed Nick's number and listened as the answering machine picked up. "Hey Nick, it's me. Just wanted to see if you were interested in catching the game with me. I know it's on tape and all, but it'd still be cool to just chill. Well, just stop by if you get this before it gets too late."

Warrick wandered around the house, picking up items that had been discarded and forgotten. It had been a while since he had really been there, in a sense aside from physical, and the last thing he wanted was a mess when he may have company over. It was an old-fashioned thing, but his grandmother had raised him to be a good person, and a good person kept a clean home.

When he was finished, he sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen. It had been over an hour, and Nick still wasn't there. He sighed and picked up his keys, heading back out the door. He needed to get away.

__

I can't be here anymore. I have to... I just have to go.

He thought about leaving Nick a note, but decided against it.

__

He's probably not coming anyway.

Warrick finally stopped the car in front of the youth center in his old neighborhood. The pavement was cracking and weeds pushed their way to freedom and into the sunlight. A glance at the basketball court showed dozens of sparkling needles, and it didn't take a trace test to tell him that they were covered in residual amounts of heroin. He walked toward the building and heard a crunch. Looking down, he saw hundreds of tiny glimmers coating the ground beside his work boot. He had stepped on one

Graffiti covered the building. Gang tags curved their way around corners, staining the happy daffodil color that had once given the building a sense of comfort and belonging. Warrick went back to the car and grabbed a beer. He twisted the top off and flicked the cap onto the passenger seat. He drank it down in a few fast gulps, then tossed the bottle in to join the cap. He took another, flicked the cap, and began walking.

He saw the sign hanging from the door and wanted to do something. He wanted to scream or break something, but there was nothing he could do. That was always the story. Nothing left to do.

__

It's all my fault. All those kids are back on the streets doing drugs and getting killed, and it's all because I made a stupid mistake.

Grissom had told him that he wouldn't be the one to pay for it, and it was true. These kids were paying for it, and there was nothing he could do.

Warrick looked at the bottle, as if seeing it for the first time. He gritted his teeth and held back the scream that played in his throat. He needed to do something. Anything to release this tension.

He threw the bottle against the side of the building and watched the sun sparkle in the tinted glass.

__

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He would deal with the anger, but not today.

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I'm tired of life

I'm tired of backstabbing ass snakes with friendly grins

I'm tired of committing so many sins

Tired of always giving in when this bottle of Henny wins

Tired of never having any ends

-Eminem -'If I Had...' -


	6. Catherine

Disclaimer: I don't own them, yet I'm still breathing. Imagine that.

Author's Note: I'm under the impression that Catherine's sister has never been named, so therefore, she's Elizabeth.

CHAPTER SIX – CATHERINE

Catherine passed their day-shift counterparts in silence. She had no connections to the people passing her in the hallway and no time for small talk. It still amazed her that no matter where you were in Vegas, it was always a different town come nightfall. A thin redhead held the door open for her and she nodded a quick goodbye.

A car sputtered, died, then came to life again. Out of the corner of her eye, Catherine saw Warrick ease his vehicle out of the parking lot. She hurried to her Denali, hoping to get away before anyone else emerged from the building. She was normally an outgoing and, some would say, overly-friendly person, but it had been a rough night. She turned the key in the ignition and smiled as the engine revved up. It was summertime and Lindsey was waiting for her.

The drive to her sister's house was uneventful at most. She pulled into the driveway and opened her car door, only to be met by a flying little girl. "Mommy, I missed you!"

"I missed you too baby. Did you have fun last night?" Lindsey nodded and held up the picture she had clutched in her small hand. She was almost nine years old and still tiny. Catherine looked at it and smiled. She really was getting good. "How'd you like to sign up for a summer art class? I'm not very good, but it's something we could do together."

Lindsey nodded again, a smile growing across her face.

_You're a horrible mother. She shouldn't have to get that excited over something like this. You need to spend more time with her._

Catherine hated it when her conscience started talking to her.

"Come on. We can stop by McDonald's and grab some breakfast to bring home. I think there's a new movie in the backseat of the car calling your name. We can watch it when we get there."

Lindsey tugged away and pulled open the car door, sliding in easily. Catherine turned to her sister and shook her head. "I shouldn't have to buy her."

"You are a great mother, Cath, and Lindsey adores you. She understands that you're doing good things when you're gone, and it puts food on the table. That's what's important, you know."

Catherine smiled, "Thanks Liz." She turned and looked through the windshield, watching Lindsey read the back of the DVD that she held in her hands. "I should go."

Liz nodded and reached out, wrapping her arms around Catherine in a tight hug. "Am I watching Linds tonight?"

Catherine shook her head. "She's going to stay at a friend's house tonight. Big beginning of the summer slumber party. I figured you could use a break anyway."

"Thanks. John will definitely appreciate it." Liz groaned, "I didn't mean... watching Lindsey is no big deal, you know."

"I know," Catherine said as she slid back into the driver's seat. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Liz waved as Catherine pulled away. She sighed and looked into the rearview mirror. "So, what do you think?"

Lindsey grinned. "It's awesome, Mom. Thank you." She set the DVD on the seat next to her. "Do you think we could go home and make pancakes instead. I miss that."

_Bad mother._

"Sure thing sweetheart." Catherine drove past the McDonald's with a little smile.

_Pancakes are better for her anyway._

The car sailed through the sea of cars lining the side of the road gracefully. Someone was at her door.

"Who's that, Mom?"

She didn't have to look very hard to know who it was.

_Won't he ever learn._

"We're just gonna go around the block one more time."

She drove by, careful to look straight ahead. If he looked into the car window, he would know.

_Please let me get away._

In the rearview mirror she saw him walk back to his car. He started it up and pulled away in the opposite direction. Catherine turned the Denali around in a neighbor's driveway and headed back to her house. She stopped in the driveway, put the car in park, and got out with Lindsey in tow.

"Why don't you go wash up? I'll start making the pancakes." Lindsey nodded and walked away. "I'll make some eggs too."

The phone rang. Catherine reached across the counter and picked it up, hoping that it wasn't him. "Willows."

"Hey Cath."

She sighed with relief; it wasn't the one. "Hi Greg. What're you doing?"

"Just thinking about you."

She fought a smile. "Lindsey's here, you know. Besides, you remember what I said."

He sounded frustrated, but not in an entirely bad way. "I know, I know. We aren't 'together', but still... you have to admit it was kind of awesome."

"Nothing I haven't heard before, but thanks. The thing is..."

He sighed over the line and it nearly broke her heart. "I know. It was a moment of weakness... a one time thing. It was a tough case and you needed release. I get that."

"Do you?" Catherine asked.

_This is too much. I need to stop._

"No, but I'm working on it. Goodbye Cath." She hung up the phone without another word. His voice was scratchy. He would probably cry, but she'd rather not know it.

_It would never work. He's too young, too innocent. Better to break his heart now before it gets too deep._

Lindsey was standing in the doorway, looking at her. She tried to smile as she shooed her daughter off to the living room with the promise of pancakes and a movie looming overhead.

She would deal with the heartache, but not today.

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Well all she wants and all she needs are reasons to survive  
A day in which the sun will take her artificial light, her light  
-Vanessa Carlton-'Paradise'-

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Author's Note: I'm not too fond of this chapter, but oh well. Reviews would be appreciated. Flames will fuel my fire this winter. It gets cold in upstate New York.


	7. Greg

Disclaimer: Not mine... never will be.

CHAPTER SEVEN – GREG

They never listened to him. Greg had warned them all that it was going to be a bad night. Sure, it may have been some old wives' tale, but he was a firm believer in it anyway.

Greg printed off the last of the lab results, signed them, and headed out into the hallway. Grissom's office was dark and, with a quick test of the knob, he found it to be locked as well. He went back to the lab and locked the results in the file drawer. He'd give them to Nick in the morning.

He walked out and into the parking lot. Grissom and Sara had already left and the rest of the team were nowhere to be seen. It was probably better that way. They didn't seem to appreciate his humor inside of the workplace, so why would they enjoy it any other time anyway?

He glanced at the tires on his car for a moment before unlocking it and getting in. Someone had cut them last week, and he was a little paranoid now.

_It was probably just some punk kid trying to be cool._

He chuckled to himself.

_That's probably what they all say about me._

He popped a CD into the player embedded in his dashboard and grinned as loud rock music filled the car. That was the way he liked it, despite what Grissom thought about his musical taste. After all, the man raced cockroaches, so he was in no position to judge other people's versions of entertainment.

Greg gazed out the window, his eyes resting on Nick's vehicle. It was parked two spots over, sad and alone in a desolate corner of the employee lot. He knew that Nick felt as out of place as he did sometimes, but he had no idea what to do about it. Greg was a social creature by nature, but when it came to serious and pressing issues, he lacked a little something.

_Or maybe I just try to. Maybe it's easier being the clown. Maybe I just want to be liked for something._

He pulled out of the parking lot, casting one last passing glance toward the door. Nick was nowhere to be seen.

_Maybe tomorrow._

Greg was less than a mile away when his pleasant mood began to fade. Somehow, at work, he always managed to forget what he was going home to. It was easy to live the lie that he had created about himself when no one had even the slightest reason to think it untrue. He had flaunted his new relationship to anyone who would listen, but it, like a lot of the things he flaunted, wasn't true. There was no girl waiting for him back home.

He parked in front of his building and turned the car off. For a moment, he thought about sitting as the day grew hot enough to bake him into the seat, but it was a passing glimmer of sorrow. After all, there were better ways to die.

Greg got out and locked the door, dragging himself up the steps and into his little place. There was no mail, not even a bill to look forward to paying. It was almost as if he didn't exist at all. He kicked a shirt out of his path and threw himself down on the couch. He grimaced and pulled the Playstation video game box out from under him, tossing it on the coffee table to join the rest of his collection. He needed to get out more.

Picking up the phone, Greg dialed the only number that he could think of. It brought a little smile to his face as he heard her answer.

"Willows."

"Hey Cath." There was no turning back now. He had taken the initiative, and now he was going to get his heart stomped on some more. He was used to it by now though. She and Sara had heart-stomping down to an art.

She sighed, and he was glad that it sounded more relieved than frustrated. "Hey Greg. What are you doing?"

"Just thinking about you."

_So stupid. That's not what you're supposed to say._

"Lindsey's here you know. Besides, you remember what I said." How could he not? It had only crushed him a little bit more after all that had happened. He had tried, good lord had he tried, but it was never enough for her. He would never be enough for her.

"I know, I know. We aren't 'together', but still... you have to admit it was kind of awesome."

"Nothing I haven't heard before, but thanks. The thing is..." And he knew what the thing was, but it didn't make it hurt less.

He sighed. "I know. It was a moment of weakness... a one time thing. It was a tough case and you needed release. I get that."

_But what about what I need? When am I going to count for anything in this world?_

"Do you?"

_Of course not._

"No, but I'm working on it. Goodbye Cath." He hung up the phone, feeling a little bleary-eyed, but he swore he wouldn't cry over her again. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

He looked over at the end table and the sun's reflection on a bit of silver caught his eye. Greg reached out and took it off the stand, turning it over in his hands. The razor was already stained with dried flecks of blood. His blood.

Greg pulled back the long-sleeved shirt and looked at the tiny scars that streaked across his wrists. Some of the cuts were still scabbed over, but most had already faded into eternal memories of what he had diminished to. They were never deep enough to kill, just enough to take the pain away for a while.

_Not this time. This time, I'll do it right._

He brought the blade to his wrist and pressed against it until the skin was broken and blood seeped from the wound and onto his hardwood floor. He started to drag it across his skin, but still not deep enough.

He would do it right sometime, but not today.

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I close my eyes, all I think about is you  
I miss the girl that I once knew  
A sleepless night, a dying wish  
Please don't leave me here like this  
-Amber Pacific-'the last time'-

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Author's Note: So, it's done then. Thanks to all who have stuck with these little ramblings. There'll be a sequel because this kind of thing just screams for one. It'll be emotional, just to warn ya'll. Anyway, thanks falqwin... I'm just glad I don't write specifically for reviews. And thanks GottaGetGreg for the review... I hope I didn't disappoint you with this one.


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